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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904684">told you not to worry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandz/pseuds/wonderlandz'>wonderlandz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2020 Season, Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Light Angst, M/M, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:08:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandz/pseuds/wonderlandz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“it was always you, you know."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>told you not to worry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title from ilomilo by billie eilish</p><p>french translations are at the end notes but i don’t know if you would need them since it's simple sentences. :)</p><p>content warning for a mention of anthoine.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>it's funny to charles how a few months can change everything. he thought he had closed this chapter, perhaps, or at least turned the page and made peace. not in his heart, but in his mind, knowing that what he felt for pierre was hopeless at best, delusional at worst. but... </p><p>but pierre is calling him, once, twice… and then every day, even though there is not much new to talk about, stuck as they both are in their respective bubbles.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>pierre cries once about missing racing and anthoine, and charles sits there, miles and miles away, crying with him, wishing he had more than just words for comfort. but words are all they have, and so charles listens, and then he speaks, quietly. he speaks, not worrying about the mistakes his english is littered with, not caring that after the first few bits of comfort, he is baring more than he should, that what he’s saying veers dangerously close to the sweet nothings territory.</p><p>god, he loves pierre still, no matter what he may have convinced himself of in his head, no matter how much he has rationalized this. he loves pierre and he would do anything to kiss his tears away, to take off his suffering. and so that is what he offers, the only thing he has, love.</p><p>he lets pierre know. that he is here. always. he tells him that he cares, and how much. and then, eventually, he tells pierre.</p><p><em> i love you, </em> he whispers into the phone just before they finish their call. <em> bonne nuit, calamar.</em> charles hangs up after that, and sits on his bed in monaco, his heart in his throat, his face hot and wet.</p><p>pierre doesn’t say anything about it the next day. but he smiles, charles can hear it in his voice, and there is a softness about the way he says charles’s name, like the two syllables are a fragile thing, a beautiful thing.</p><p>at the end of their call, pierre says, “i have missed you so much these past months, you know, <em>mon petit</em>. more than i thought i would.”</p><p>“i miss you, too,” charles says back. he decides to ignore the nickname he gives him, even though he can't help but lay awake at night later thinking about it.</p><p>he thinks about all the summer nights he's spent with pierre growing up, sharing bunk beds and talking about racing and being a world champion one day, fighting for a win, a podium, a title. </p><p>he fights back tears and buries his face on his pillow, gulping thickly as he tries to even out his breathing.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>pierre is drunk, charles can tell. he is not the happy kind of drunk, and charles cannot blame him. the world weighs heavy these days, and there are thoughts not even alcohol can blurry.</p><p>“it was always you, you know,” pierre mumbles, after telling charles about his last two <em> spectacular </em> break-ups. “i couldn’t be with any of them,” he says, and his eyes are glossy. then he slips into french. “c’était toujours toi. it was always you, charles, damnit. i have always been in love with you.”</p><p>charles stares at pierre’s face on his screen, at the hysterical way pierre laughs, at the tear he wipes from the corner of his eye. he doesn’t know what to say back. he had bared his soul to him, yes. he just never expected pierre to reciprocate.</p><p>then pierre breaks down in sobs, and hangs up, and charles is left sitting at home, his phone heavy in his hand, and his sight growing blurry.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>pierre stops calling after that night. and charles, shattered by the truth, a truth pierre had clearly not meant to share, not really, doesn’t dare take the first step. the days feel darker, somehow, even as spring finally tips over into summer, and things start looking up for the world.</p><p>he wonders if he will be able to do it again… lock up his feelings once again. let pierre go. stop crying over him. charles is not sure. not sure at all.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>it is the beginning of a new year, or so it feels, even though it's only the start of the season. charles is ready. for the races that will resume after the forced break, for the upcoming 2020 season. he is <em> not </em> ready for pierre.</p><p>and yet there he is, coming to see charles a week before the first race week even starts, a shy boy at charles’s door. charles wonders if this is it, the end of the road. If they will agree to bury everything, and have a normal friends relationship like they always have had. if the love charles has laid at pierre’s feet, and pierre’s drunken stumble over it, will become nothing but a memory.</p><p>“j’étais un idiot,” is the first thing pierre says, biting his lip and rocking back on his heels, and when he looks up at charles, his eyes are damp and <em> so damn </em> hopeful. </p><p>there's something different about the way pierre looks, and charles can't relate, he’s feeling like he has aged about five years over the span of six months. but there is a brightness in pierre’s gaze, a spark that ignites the fire charles has spent months trying to put out.</p><p> “i was scared, je suis- i'm sorry,” pierre goes on, and then he draws a breath, and meets charles’s eyes. “i love you,” he says, “and if you can forgive me, then…” </p><p>charles wants to laugh. and cry. and punch pierre in the face.</p><p>in the end, he does neither, because… well, because life right now feels a little too short and a little too precious for all that, for anger and fear and disbelief. </p><p>instead, he shakes his head and steps forward, so he can grab pierre’s face, and kiss him. it's better than words. it's better than anything, really. and charles feels so lucky to have this, life, love, and the man he’s always loved smiling into their first kiss.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>bonne nuit = goodnight<br/>c’était toujours toi = it was always you<br/>j’étais un idiot = i was an idiot</p></blockquote></div></div>
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